New Orleans
by barefootduchess
Summary: It's the early 20th century and Bella's in jail. Edward is intrigued with her story, but the question remains... did she do it? Did she kill him? Can Edward help her and most importantly... does he believe she's innocent? AU, Cannon, and definitely OOC!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

EPOV

I heard screaming. It was the most shrill, enraged female voice I'd ever heard in all of my days. And in 1924, I had had many more days granted me than I had ever planned. At the time I was 23 years old, but didn't look a day over 17. Infact I would never look a day over 17 again, no matter how long I lived. I was turned in 1918 at the onset of the Spanish flu. Carlisle, my sire, and for all intents and purposes, my father and I had relocated to the great and gloomy city of New Orleans, Louisiana.

Now it's not necessarily a perpetually gloomy city, not in spirit anyhow. It does, however, not take special note of those who are more nocturnal in nature. Of course my kind does not have need of nocturne activities exclusively, but in cities where the sun is a prominent feature, nightlife becomes quite a natural cover for us.

The screaming seemed to hang in the thick, humid, summertime air. I remember that it was several hours past sunset and I was strolling along Bourbon Street. On Bourbon I could almost imagine I was human again, because the set that paraded that area after dark made even a monster such as me appear docile.

I walked quickly toward the echoes of the bloody screams. Once in the thick shadows of the night I could move at super-human speeds. As I reached the scene of whatever was going on I was relieved to see that it was merely the long arms of the law doing their duty. A pair of local law enforcement officers was dragging a struggling and now gagged young female into the paddy wagon.

Merely curious now, rather than alarmed, I sauntered over to one of them as he was padlocking the back door of the wagon as his partner climbed into the driver seat of the cab.

"Rather loud young thing you got there." I implied. "What'd she do officer? Young lady like that couldn't really be of much harm to anyone."

"Huh, that's what you think buddy; this one's being hauled in for murder. She's a right dangerous thing, she is." The officer grunted.

"Murder, are you sure? I don't see a body, officer." I smiled. Even with other males my charm could get me answers that others would have no access to otherwise.

The officer just smiled, but in his minds' eye I saw a broken, bleeding body, gunshot wound most likely, lying on the cold cement floor of some old abandon shack.

The officer turned and got into the passenger side of the paddy wagons cab before they both drove off. Something in all of this just didn't set up right. Whether the girl did kill that dark-skinned male I still saw bleeding out or not, something more to this story was certainly bubbling underneath the surface. If the girl did do it, surely I would know once alone with her. Her mind would be as plain to me as an open book and as easy to read as a first grade reader. I followed at a distance. No local jail for this one; no they were taking her all the way to Angola. The State Penitentiary was not often the destination for women of any crime. Often most females convicted of anything wrongful were set up first in the local jail houses before transporting them to a more secure facility.

It did not slip my attention that Angola Prison was also reputed as the bloodiest prison in the Southern United States. The body lying on the cement floor of the shack had not been the bloodiest murder I had ever seen, nor the most gruesome or threatening in any way. If you live in New Orleans long enough, you see many things that the human mind may not be ready to process, so this matter seemed an interesting intrigue.

I stayed out of sight to avoid suspicion of the officers who brought in the screaming beauty. Thankfully my state of being afforded me many a benefit to satisfying my curiosity without being more than one hundred feet from the girl.

I listened as they brought her into the small interrogation chamber.

"Name?" a harsh male voice barked.

"Screw you." The young lady spat back at him.

-Smack.

Even from my vantage point, being able only to hear and my sight worthless, I could distinguish the sound of the back of the man's hand on the delicate cheekbone of the young woman. Not hard enough to break it, but it would be an ugly bruise. I winced at the thought of her swollen cheek and eye.

"Now missy, we're going to do this my way. I'll ask, you'll answer or there'll be plenty more where that came from." The male voice replied.

"Name?" he asked again.

"Isabella Marie Delacroix, they call me 'Marie.'"

"Alright Marie, where were you tonight?"

"Which part?" she asked cheekily.

I could hear the sound of his jacket pulling and rubbing against itself as he raised his arm to strike her again.

"With Madam, She'll tell you." She said quickly to avoid the next backhand.

"Madam who?" said the male.

"Madam Laveau ." she said as if it were obvious.

"And this… Madam… she will tell us you were with her all night; even if we were to offer her an incentive?"

"Why would you do that?" Marie asked.

"To see how much you're making up."

"I'm not, I don't even know why I'm here." She spat.

"If you don't know why you're here why were you kicking and screaming refusing to come quietly.?"

"I don't go anywhere quietly." She said.

I was bracing for another slap but it didn't come.

"How much business you get tonight, Miss Marie?"

"Business?" she sassed.

"Yes, business; you know well what I mean. Don't pretend you don't."

"Oh I know what you're implying, but I assure you, I'm no whore." She said with as much dignity as I've ever heard.

Looking back now I realize that had Rosalie been asked the same, could she have swallowed the urge to kill at the implication, would have answered with the same pride in her voice as this Marie.

"Miss Delacroix, women of your… demeanor do not bode well on society, even in a city of sin like the rat hole we just procured you from. Because whether you killed Jacob Lenoir or not, you will not see the outside of these walls again. And if you did kill him, I'll see to it personally that you ride Old Sparky."

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**A/N: Okay, is this even worth continuing? I mean in my head it sounds cool, but I'll let you be the judge and jury. Let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

"You wait here Miss Marie. I'll return by and by, don't you fret." The interrogator/guard drawled.

I could hear his feet shuffling as he clomped down the long hallway away from her. I could hear as he turned the corner and fell into laughter in the break room with the other officers and guards on duty. They were laughing at his comment. He planned to leave her there alone for some time, make her think he was not coming back; he thought it would scare her into talking.

I heard her sigh in relief as he left. My shoulders visibly eased as well. Things could have gone much worse, but the night was not yet over.

I took a good look at the entrance. In those days hardly anything was locked; especially the front doors of a jail. The officers on duty were not so concerned about people trying to break in; they were more concerned with those who were trying to get out, and it was rare any would have tried the front doors.

Usually I had better scruples than this. No matter what I was I still had ideals and moral values. I had never used my super human abilities to break the law in any way, and had this girl not come along I probably never would have. I walked in the front door. The first place I headed was the men's room; there was no way I wanted to blow my cover with something as easily remedied as my appearance.

I took off my long-sleeved over-shirt. I stood before the dim little mirror in my undershirt and suspenders, looking myself over, wondering what else might help. I hung it and my hat on a nearby hook. I messed my hair and arranged my suspenders to look as if I had been hunched over a desk all day in an awkward pose. The circles under my eyes helped the effect tremendously. I had fed recently, but the scent of fresh blood in the air tonight had done nothing to help my growing appetite.

The girl, as well, smelled mouth-watering. It was nothing overpowering, but I had to admit to myself, she did smell more desirable than most humans.

I sauntered into the room she was in and leaned heavily on my hands which now rested upon the table. The room was small and dark. One hooded bulb lamp hung from the ceiling. The walls were painted white with the most hideous green trim. Both colors of paint were peeling noticeably.

"Are you Miss Delacroix?" I asked as if the situation bored me to tears.

"Yes." She answered half heartedly, barely glancing up at me.

"I'm detective Masen. I'm here to act as your attorney until a proper one can be dug up for you. At this hour it might be a while. So here we are." I said, looking around me as if this were a common occurrence that I detested.

Her heart sped up, and a faint flush tinted her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at me. I was accustomed to this reaction from humans by now, but still I swallowed a smirk. Something about the fact that this girl took notice of my inhuman beauty satisfied me.

"I ain't talking to you either, honey. You may as well scuttle on back to whatever desk they drug you from; it ain't happening." She said regaining the footing she'd lost by my appearance.

I smirked at her openly now. "Miss Delacroix, I am the closest thing you have to an ally here in this prison. My colleagues believe you murdered that man and you'll fry for it if you don't let me help you."

"Well, you don't mince words there much, do you?" She scoffed.

"Miss Delacroix, you don't seem too worried about dying." I said.

"What is death but the beginning of a new state of being? I ain't scared to die; Madam will see to it that I come back." She said haughtily.

"I don't know this Madam of yours,' I lied, 'but there is no life after death, ma'am. Not after the chair."

"You don't know much do you? You're just a poor little rich boy, probably working in daddy's old pen to save face that you can't do anything right on your own. Go on, now, get." She dismissed me… just like that.

I laughed. This girl had a pair; that was for sure. She knew that something about me was different but I knew her mind must be searching for what was the correct term. Mind. Her mind. Wait, what? She was silent. Her mind gave nothing to me. Close enough to smell her sweet honeysuckle shampoo and I still couldn't read her.

I sat down in the chair opposite her; for one reason, to make a point. I wasn't going to be dismissed like a wayward puppy. Secondly, I needed to look into her eyes. She had brown eyes, deep and liquid like a warm brandy on a cold night.

"What's so funny, monsieur?" she asked me.

"You are, madam. You certainly think highly of yourself. You obviously think quite lowly of me and you ought not; I'm the only hope you have right now of survival."

I was taken aback at the statement that had only that moment passed my lips. How ironic that this young lady's only chance at survival was a blood-thirsty vampire.

"You're trying to trick me. You want to hear me confess and nothing more. Then you will go get the old geezer and that will be the end of me. I'm not stupid, and as I told him, I'm not some whore off the street."

"I know madam. You're no whore. But you do seem to be in a lot of trouble. What can I do to convince you that I'm not on their side?" I pleaded.

"Rien, monsieur; you are a cop. You are on their side like it or not. You cannot help me either way. It would be best for you to stay away." She said. I could see the tears well in her eyes.

I nodded, standing, pretending to go.

"Just one more thing, Miss Delacroix, what made you think I was rich?" I asked.

"You smell nice. Only the wealthy men smell as nice as you. That and your suspenders; they are made well of silk and the clasps are gold. Poor men would not wear them, they would sell them."

I laughed to myself. This one is keen; I might just need to keep a better eye on her.

I turned as I stood in the doorway.

"I will be in touch Miss Delacroix. You will need me later on, because the scum they get to represent you will be paid for out of their wallets. You won't have a chance at a fair trial, which I can promise you." I said as I walked out of the room.

I retrieved my things from the men's room before finding an out of the way place to hide and listen to what went on with her. I now felt responsible for her and didn't think it wise that I leave her to the wolves until she was safely locked in her cell.

The night wore on and she was finally revisited by the interrogator. She said as much to him as to me, though he was not at all impressed and proceeded to book her and walk her to the women's building.

I felt slightly safer that she was now among only women kind and went to hunt after she was safely in her bunk for the night. Who knew when I might have the chance again?

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, this thing is really taking in a life of it's own! Review to get the next chapters out faster!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Morning broke gloomy and humid. I sat quietly in an old moss-covered oak until visiting hours and this time, I went inside the normal way… thought the visitor's quarters.

I sat in a chair waiting patiently as I looked fixedly at a plate glass window. There was a small metal vent near the bottom so that prisoner and visitor could hear one another. It was one of the first penitentiaries in the United States to implement this kind of protection on behalf of the innocent.

As soon as the guard opened the door I could smell her. She smelled of honeysuckle and gardenia, like a French quarter summer night. She had not been allowed to bathe, but it only made her scent stronger.

I couldn't help the grin that spread involuntarily across my face at the sight of her screwed up one. I could tell she had been hoping for a different guest.

"What do you want; I thought I told you I ain't confessing to you or anyone." She sneered.

"My dearest Mademoiselle, has it escaped your notice that if I were a cop, as you were so very certain of last night, that I would have no need to visit you behind this ridiculously thick piece of glass inlaid with metal wiring?"

She blinked for a moment, obviously processing what I had just pointed out.

Slowly she began to reason aloud why I may still be lying to her. "Well, I suppose if you wanted to complete the charade, you could pretend to be a civilian, and come in the visitors' entrance."

"If I wanted to make you talk… truly wanted to make you talk, I could chéri." I said, not intending to be as menacing as my words came out to be.

She smirked at this. "If I had nothing to talk about, there would be nothing to hear."

"Oh, mon Chéri, I could make you confess to things you couldn't dream of in your darkest nightmares." I replied, despising myself for letting even this tiny bit of the monster within show though. I had to show her I meant business. If she didn't confess to me and let me help her she'd be the first woman to swing in this country in two-hundred years.

I wasn't quite sure why, yet, but for some reason I didn't feel I could live with myself if she were to die. Something about her called to me. Something beyond her blood… down to her very soul.

As I came back to my present self, I noticed madam's eyes were wide and frightened, like a rabbit in the direct presence of a wolf.

"Miss Marie? Did I frighten you? I did not mean to… much." I purred.

"Of course not… I hate to disappoint you, sir, but no mere man can frighten me.' She laughed nervously. Had I been but mortal, I would not have heard her mutter under her breath the next words she spoke.

"'But I've been Madam Laveau's student for a long time now. You are no mere man, monsieur. What you are I do not yet know, but when my senses come to light I will know your real form." Her words were so light and silent even with my vampire hearing they were but mere wisps of smoke.

At first my spirit soared. I thought I might have finally read her mind. But my eyes caught her lips move ever so slightly as she muttered the word 'form.'

I could not help myself… "I assure you, mademoiselle, this form is my own, you shall not find that I am a shifter… what you see before you I am, and what you do not see, I am as well." I said with a leer.

Her eyes narrowed. I knew that she knew I should not have heard her whispered suspicions. But I had, and though it did not surprise her, it gave her a perfect reason to stop talking altogether.

This Madam Laveau had schooled her, obviously, but not far enough or she would have seen through my front. Madam knew a vampire when she saw one. This girl had no clue other than that something about me was off.

"Why should I trust you? You are not human, whatever you are; you do not feel like a good spirit, my instincts warn me of every inch of you." She said, angry now.

"Your instincts are correct, my young madam, but I am the only one who can help you right now. My kind is often found to be evil, I do not deny. But if I wanted you I could have had you last night and no one would have been the wiser. Why would I still be here if you were as little to me as a snack?" I spat, my anger matching hers.

"If your intentions were as honorable as you say, you would be truthful with me. You would not hide yourself." She countered.

"I doubt you would appreciate my honesty. Fine, I will level with you, but first you must let me help you. After your life is no longer threatened I will be as honest as I can be with you."

"Agreed, though I still do not feel as if you are a friend." She resigned.

"My kind is not a friend to yours, therefore no matter how well things go during this time of trial, do not get comfortable. It is as much against my instincts to help you as it is yours to accept my offer." I said quietly. There, the first bit of truth. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Then why help me?" she asked.

"When I know, myself, so shall you." I replied. There, another truth. This was getting easier all the time.

"Fine, then. I killed Jacob Lenoir." She said as easily as if she had told me the correct time of day.

I actually felt my jaw drop. Perhaps I had over-estimated the ease of this trial after all.

"You… killed him. The young man in the… but why, how?" I sputtered.

She sat back with an easy smile. The smile was familiar to me even if she was not. It was the smile one beholds on a cat… the cat that has just finished a lovely canary dessert.

"You sure you got the time, Monsieur?" she said cheekily.

"I have eternity, Miss Marie. Why don't you begin at the beginning?" I sat back in my chair, an unnecessary move, because as a vampire I simply did not get uncomfortable. But still, the body language signaled not only my assumed authority in the whole matter, but also that I was willing to listen as long as she would speak.

We had only an hour left, so I would have to come back, but still, any start was better than bickering endlessly until they pulled the switch.

"The beginning, monsieur, was a while ago, before I entered the tutelage of Madam. I was happy, I was wonderful. I was wealthy.

I lived in the Garden District. 1332 Washington Avenue was my home; a lovely little white house, with a long cool porch. My family was not wealthy in the terms that yours seems to be, but what I didn't know then was that upper middle class was nothing to sneeze at.

My father was a business man; my mother was flighty and adorable. She was a typical southern belle. My father, Charles Swanson Delacroix the third, was the light of my life and I his. My mother, Delilah Renee Roubecheaux Delacroix, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her family was what a person as you would deem wealthy; she came from old money, plantation owners mostly. My father was a step down for her but they loved each other and were happy.

My father one day went in to his business as usual, but waiting there for him was a man who would end his life that day. He shot my father in the back, three times, turned and left. No one knows who he is or where he is, but he's still out there somewhere.

My mother, poor thing was as delicate as a flower. Once she heard of my father's death she took to her bed and didn't eat for days. She didn't starve from lack of food, though, but her sadness killed her. Madam says it's really not all that uncommon for a person to die of grief.

I was left on my own. The house was sold to pay off taxes and the remaining balances of debts that my parents had incurred. And that was all there was. My father's wealth lie in investments, none of which he left to anyone in his will. I suppose he thought that he would leave thing in his will that were profitable. His partners absorbed his shares, and our things were sold or given away.

I left my home one month after my mother died, penniless and with a small bag of clothing. I knew not where I was headed or how, but as the saying goes, I could not stay there.

I found myself at dusk in Lafayette cemetery, huddled up next to one of the mausoleums, crying until tears would no longer come. That's where Madam found me. She said that her mother lead me to her. The grave I was leaning against just happened to belong to her mother, a very famous voodoo queen named Marie Laveau. She was visiting the grave just as she did every month on the anniversary of her mother's death.

Her name is also Marie, so everyone has just taken to calling her Madam, to avoid confusion. She asked my name. I gave her my full name not yet knowing hers.

'Isabella Marie Robecheaux Swanson Delacroix' I said. Madam's winkled old face lit up in a grin. 'Why my little Marie' she said softly to me, 'I do believe we'd better be getting on back; it's near supper time."

So we did… I've been with her ever since. She's teaching me the arts, but I admit I'm not too quick to catch on.

I sat rapt with tension. I had known of this Charles Delacroix's death not five years before. Though it was not the fault of any of my kind, the being that killed him was as human as I, and so some part of me felt irresponsible for not letting on what I knew.

This was her time to tell stories, though; if the subject was ever breached again I would divulge the dark secret and let her make of it what she may. I must remember that she still did not know what I was, and so telling her the absolute truth at this moment would be severely detrimental in any account.

Just then the guard came in. A tall, plain faced woman, she tugged gently on Marie's sleeve and motioned with her head toward the only door in or out of the long room which housed the confessed murderess.

I watched her go and wondered what I had truly gotten myself into.

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**A/N: Well the story is progressing. Hope you don't find it too boring! Remember, reviews = quicker output... don't know why but the reviews seem to motivate me. LOL.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Our next meeting was the following day; the time between the moments I had last seen her and now, as I sat in my cold metal chair waiting, seemed an eternity.

She sat down with an exaggerated demure manner and began where she had left off, with meeting Madam Laveau.

I could not help but interrupt her at this point.

"So you live with madam Laveau?"

At this point she smiled a sly smile. "I never said that's where I lived… only that I've been with her."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Voodoo is a lot of things but it doesn't pay the bills, monsieur. I wasn't lying when I said I was no whore." She said and left something obvious hanging in the air. I might have guessed what she was getting at, but my mind simply would not accept it… naively I sat there, wide eyed and waiting.

She seemed to let the point go and forced me to ask her, "Why do you keep telling me that? I already said that I believed you."

"Then you truly do not know where I live… I live at the Arlington, in Storyville." She said enunciating every word in that beautiful southern drawl.

My mouth had dropped for the second time in two days. With my particular ability it seemed I was never shocked or surprised. This one little girl, however, had literally put me on the edge of my chair since I had met her.

"How can you… why, how…where…why..."

She laughed a soft titillating giggle. "I can see I've surprised you and that you must have a few questions. Don't bother; I'll answer them all in time, just know this, Madam Arlington does not allow virgins to be defiled in her house. But a girl has to eat, right?"

"Eat?" I asked; my throat was now dry as a bone and my gaze dropped immediately to her throat, her scent filling my nostrils and invading every part of me. It was a struggle to bring my eyes back to hers.

She laughed a humorless laugh now, "Guess that's the end of this conversation." She said as she rose to leave.

"No, please. Stay, I still want to help you." I choked.

"I'm sure you do, Cherie, just not in the same way as you did before you knew where I lived." She said sarcastically, walking away from me.

"No… I swear to you. I told you, your kind and mine are not friends; we could never be… like that. It makes no difference what you are. I will help you as I agreed to, no strings attached, I promise you." I said quickly.

She turned and seemed to consider my words. Slowly she came and sat back down.

"I think you may have misunderstood me monsieur, I am not exactly a working girl at the Arlington. Not the kind you are familiar with anyway. I dance, that is all… I am a mere preview to the real show. Madam Arlington has been very kind to me."

"You dance, how has it come to be that you..."

She held her hand up to stop me, "No more questions… if you are to help me you must know why I am here in the first place, you will help me not to die, remember?"

I nodded my head silently as if to assure her that I would remain such.

"Now, where was I? Madam Laveau took me under her wing magically, but as you may know, lives in quite a small compartment in the French quarter.

So after receiving a good meal from her and assurance that she would protect me and teach me her art, she told me about Madam Arlington. I went to Storyville that very evening and what I saw going on in the streets and in the house were things I had never imagined in my wildest dreams.

I found Madam Arlington in her boudoir as directed by one of the other girls. She was alone that night, being who she was; she entertained only her regular customers, and only those who were high contributors.

Madam is the most expensive of all the house girls, her prices exceed twelve dollars, you know."

I shook my head while muttering, "No, I did not know."

She nodded as she continued, "Yes, she is what the men call quality. I walked timidly in and sat down as directed on her vanity chair. Her bedroom is decorated in the finest red velvets and lace. Truly it is a sight to behold.

I was amazed at the beauty of it and immediately told her so. She smiled sadly and said that this could all be mine, but the price was higher than I could imagine.

The longer I live there the more I think I understand what she was trying to tell me then. I told her that night of my situation and mentioned that Madam Laveau had sent me here.

She nodded knowingly and said she had just the position for me."

I could not hide the smirk that crossed my face, but the glare from Marie quickly wiped it from my face.

"She said I could dance in her parlor. She said I would not meet with the men until I was ready, and that if that day never came I would be no less welcome in her home. I accepted gratefully and have been there ever since. I visit Madam Laveau in the day time and return to the Arlington house just before dusk. I dance until around midnight and then as the crowd begins to disperse I am free to retire to my quarters.

Now just because I do not offer the services that most of the others do, does not mean that I make any less money; I have my regular customers as well and many pay to see me dance for them. My quarters are beginning to be quite the talk of the house.

In my quarters I have chosen a soft golden velvet and satin with sheer muslin bed curtains. Velveteen, my closest in age in the house, has said that I shall have the only ladies boudoir that has never been visited by a man."

She looked up at me then, with a gleam of familiarity in her eyes.

"My bedroom is the color of your eyes. I just realized that, but it is the truth."

I nodded but said nothing. The explanation of my eye color would come later.

"The girls taught me how to dance to tame the men and excite them. I borrowed some rags from Gazelle, that's what they call their entertaining clothes, rags, the first week or so until I could pay for my own from my earnings.

I know what you must be thinking of me, but I assure you it isn't what you think. I know you have never visited our house, but I can promise you what you may have seen in other houses is not how we dance in ours."

"Why do you try so hard to convince me that you are not lascivious? What would that matter?" I asked her.

"I don't know; for some reason I seem to care what you think of me. I should not, I know; but the fact remains. I could show you how I dance, if you were to get me out of here…" she said.

I frowned, I opened my mouth to speak but nothing would come out.

"Perhaps not." She said.

Just then the guard came in to announce that our time together was again at an end.

She stood to go but I caught the glint of a tear in her eye as she turned to leave.

"Marie, what do they call you there?" I asked. Why did I ask that? What was it to me what her bordello handle was? But I held my breath waiting for her answer.

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**A/N: Hi, guys.. so sorry for the delay. Got a new machine and the transfer has been delayed... got all my old files on the new computer so updates should be more regular. Remember... reviews produce chapters!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was nearly visiting time again. I had been working out many escape plans in my mind over night. I listened intently to the things around me. I lounged in an old magnolia tree watching the stars begin to fade.

My mind rushed with the things Marie had divulged to me only hours before. First, that she had indeed killed Jacob Lenoir. Second, that she was an occupant at one of the most famous whore houses in the southern United States. Third, that she cared what I thought of her.

She seemed to be telling me the truth, and a wilted flower she was not. Whatever she had been through in her life had made her stronger still. As steel on the outside, she could not be penetrated unless she chose to allow entrance, but I had a feeling that on the inside she was a tender, soft, sweet young woman… I had to find a way to break through her hard exterior.

At first I had hoped to act as lawyer, now, though, it seemed she might have to escape if she had any hope of survival. The policeman who had brought her here obviously knew who she was and where she was from. It seemed to be common knowledge, though in our years in New Orleans, I had not seen her in anyone's mind.

I wondered at that. But right now that was beside the point; being who she was, living where she lived and knowing who she knew, she would not get a fair trial. Dash it all, she was a killer, she was guilty whether or not she was living in a house of ill repute. I closed my eyes in despair.

If I helped her escape she would likely be a fugitive for the rest of her life. How could I offer her that? What kind of life would that be for a lady? Something from my upbringing whispered in the back of my mind that being what she was no one would ever consider her a lady.

I shook that thought away. She had had a bad start. If she were given the opportunity, she surely would become a respectable woman, and one day, a wife and mother. Something burned in my chest at that thought. It must be time to hunt again. I would do that later. Now I had a decision to make. How much was I going to tell her and what might she be comfortable doing?

Surely I could have her back to New Orleans in only an hour, she could gather her things and then… and then what? Where would I send her, to whom and how far? Was the north far enough? Europe? France maybe; No, not France, surely she would end up in an even more elaborate brothel and perhaps get herself in even more trouble. Besides, did they not still burn women as witches there?

Who would protect her once I set her free? Here in the town of her birth she had only Bordello Madams and Voodoo Queens to protect her and give her food and shelter… if not enough clothing. No, I mustn't speculate… I had never been to the Arlington; perhaps she was dressed more appropriately than the ones I had seen in the minds of all those low down, cheating scoundrels masquerading as gentlemen.

Masquerading… why did that word seem to ring a bell in the corners of my mind? If I had any more time to think I am sure it would have come to me then, but as it was I heard the bells on the church tower in town chiming. Time to go and see what might come of today… one could only wonder.

I sat down in my cold metal chair again. My lack of body heat did not help the situation; the metal did not warm beneath me, if anything it grew colder.

I watched as she walked into the room. Her legs seemed longer, leaner… her hips swayed and rolled as she walked. Her body moved with lithe grace. How had I never noticed before?

"It's because you've never thought of me as a whore before, monsieur." She said as she sat down.

"Excuse me?" I asked, astonished at her words. For a split second I wondered if she could read minds… then the real horror dawned on me; had I mouthed the words I had been thinking. Please, no.

She smiled at me as she shook her head. "It is written all over your face, your eyes locked on parts of me you never knew I had. I am quite accustomed to it, monsieur, when I meet men on the street they treat me like a lady. When those same men find out where I reside, they treat me like their next meal."

"I do not look at you as if you were a meal…" I countered.

"No, monsieur, not yet; I am sure we are not far from it, though… with some men it takes longer, it is a progression from female to object. You can not hurt me by it, it is what I am."

"I thought you were adamant that you were no such thing." I replied.

"Monsieur, it is the difference between a rat and a mouse. Both are despised creatures, but one seems more terrible, the other a lesser evil. It is a fine line I walk… I have but to open my door and let a man enter and I will no longer be a mouse, but a full-fledged rat."

I sat silently taking in her words; ashamed at myself for thinking of her more impurely since her revelation. She was right, it was a progression. How long hence would it be before I thought of her as only a pair of breasts and place to release my tension? I sighed heavily.

"I do apologize sincerely, Mademoiselle. You are correct and I am a cad. I should never let my impressions get the better of me. My only thought now is of your release, by escape if possible. We must plan this quickly; since your confession I doubt our time limit."

"Such a sad thing, monsieur, the night I first met you I meant truly what I said… I was not afraid of death. Since I have known you now, I dream of freedom. I wish I had never met you, and then I would not fear what is to come."

"You do not think I can free you?" I asked.

"Whether you can or cannot, will I ever be free? My home will not be my own anymore. I have never lived outside of New Orleans and now it seems I may never be able to go back. They know me there… I will live a half life."

"The life of a fugitive; yes, those thoughts occurred to me as well. But you have confessed so whether your motive was just or not, I fear because of your lifestyle they will see you executed."

She nodded. She was not by any means a stupid girl, she had more common sense than one would expect. No, there I go again; I must not think of her in terms of her vocation. It is wrong and pre-judgmental.

"I think, Mademoiselle Marie that we will have to worry about that issue when it comes. We must get you out of here, and we must do so very quickly."

She nodded. I spoke with her for a time on her daily routines and we figured out a plan that would cause the least suspicion until she was safely away from this place.

Her daily routine included a time out of doors. The inmates were allowed to wander and walk around in an enclosed area for an hour every day. Later that night I would tear a hole in the doubled fence that surrounded the area. Marie's outdoor time was early morning and she told me she often went to a certain spot in the fence and jus stood looking toward the cypress woods.

She could slip through the hole I had made and after the outdoor time was over I could easily and quickly repair the damage. No one would be the wiser.

She did not ask how I would go about such a task and for that I was thankful. Now was not the time to be discussing what I was and how I would operate, those things were for another time. The fact that she trusted me so implicitly at this point endeared her to me, if only for a time. Many would ask questions or at the very least speculate. She took me at my word.

This girl had more surprises in her than I had allotted that she would.

The next morning we put our plan in to action and within minutes she was free. I told her to close her eyes and climb on my back; whatever she did, not to open them until I said.

She obeyed immediately and we were off. I did not stop running until we were somewhere in Tennessee. The Smoky Mountains was the perfect place for us to whole up for a day or two while the hounds were set free. They would be searching a thirty to fifty mile radius. No one would ever suspect that we could ever be this far this quickly. And in fact we could move much faster than they could follow. We were safe.

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**A/N: I know it's short but I will be posting number 6 later today. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

We ran… I could feel her arms tightening onto me. Her warm, soft skin shivered with chills at the light morning air's dew drops as they hit us like tiny needles and evaporated instantly.

Surprisingly she obeyed my command to keep her eyes closed. I tried to keep to the more wooed areas and out of the way fields and plains as we came to them, but every now and then the sun would peek out though the clouds just enough to glint off my crystallized skin. Had she opened her eyes my adept hearing would have heard the brush of her eyelashes on her skin, but to my delight they did not.

Now was not the time for more questions about me to arise. Right now we must focus on getting her settled and ensuring that she did not encounter any more trouble.

Over and over during our journey I would ask myself why I was doing this. I still had no answer, even once we reached the foothills of the Smoky Mountains.

It only took a few hours for us to reach this our first destination. Once we were in a dense brushy area where no sunlight would dare poke through, I slowed to a complete stop.

As I pulled gently on her arms I spoke softly to her.

"You can climb down now… we are as far as we will go today."

I heard her sigh and winced for her discomfort as she unlocked her stiff muscles from her death grip.

"Are you going to be alright? I quite forgot how uncomfortable it can be for your kind to stay in one position for a long amount of time."

She nodded as she replied. "Yes, it will just be a minute before I can walk a long distance. Where are we?"

"I'll tell you later. Would you like to sit and rest a while?"

"Sure, I could use a bit of stretching." She said as she strode carefully over to a large boulder and sat down.

I watched in silence as she elongated her back and legs, then her arms and twisted from side to side. She happened to look up at me as she was rubbing her neck.

"What now?" she whispered.

"Now, we find you something decent to wear, and then get you something to eat; I can hear your stomach growling." I smirked.

"You know that's not what I meant. Where do I go from here?"

"I know of a hunter's cabin… we will be quite safe there until autumn. Walk with me, it's not far."

As we walked, my mind could not quiet itself from thinking of the story she had yet to divulge to me.

"May I ask you to complete your story?"

She nodded and as we walked she began again, where she had left off, the circumstances that brought her to take the life of another.

I have lived with Madame Arlington for almost three years now… had lived. Most people think of the girls who live there were nothing but objects, but truly they are so much more. They are the most wonderful, caring people I have ever met.

Mirage and Jade are my closest bosom friends, and Esmeralda is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is said to be from Egypt, but I know it is not true; she told me she was abandoned here after being transported from Asia Minor… she is a Turk, and very exotic.

We have many regular customers. We have as many new customers every night…"

She gazed off into the distance. I suspect she was still coming to terms with the reality that her home was a place that she was never to see again…

I spoke up to bring her back to the present, "I would like to hear about you."

She smiled. "About me, what can I say about me? I was a parlor dancer, dressed in the finest satin corsets and lace.

All of the men adored me, even though they knew that I was the one girl who they could not hire. I had many regulars as well; men who would come to watch me dance. They intended no self indulgence while there; they merely liked to see me dance.

I had a few who were in my audience every single night. One of whom was Jacob Lenoir.

The very first time I saw him there, he was as green as ever I had seen a young man. His cousin, Sam, was a semi-regular. We all knew Sam was married to a woman that would have, by looks alone, fared well in our business.

She was well known in town and was a very upstanding gentle woman. But she had, during a hunting trip, been mauled by a bear on her face. Once the scars healed, she was no less beautiful. But obviously Sam thought differently.

Not long after her accident he began coming more often, once bringing his young cousin, Jacob. I believe he was hoping that by bringing Jacob, and perhaps Jacob enjoying our services, that he would keep quiet and not tell Emily.

Well, in a way, that's exactly what happened. But, Jacob never purchased any service, except the ticket to see me dance. After his first night in my audience he was there nightly. Always in the exact same chair.

For months he would sit down, wait for the show to begin, watch with rapt attention, applauded when the show was over, got up and quietly leave to go home. Then, one night, he approached me. Not for what you might think, he just wanted to introduce himself.

We talked for a moment and then I retired to my boudoir. Every night after that, we spoke a little more. He was sweet, charming, and by that time he knew that I was not one of the working girls.

Slowly, his usual seat came closer to the stage every night, until finally he was in the front row. He would stay longer after the shows, and speak on broader subjects.

Looking back now I believe in his mind he thought he was courting me. Looking back now, I should have been ready for the things that were coming next.

I'm not oblivious to human nature… I'm not naive enough to not know what eventually forms in a man's mind.

I looked at her, my brows slightly furrowed. "I thought you were going to talk about yourself; not Jacob."

She smiled demurely. The softness in her face should not have surprised me, but I am ashamed to say that it caught me totally off guard.

"I find it hard to talk about myself. I can't imagine anyone being interested." She said softly.

"You have nightly callers, regulars wanting to watch only you, and you think no one could be interested. How do you logically work that one out?" I laughed.

"They don't come around to see the real me, monsieur. They come to see a projection… they come to see a fantasy brought to life."

I nodded slowly as we walked.

"Your boudoir, then. How is it you come to have your own? I thought many …girls often shared."

"Oh, no, not in Madam's house. The maids do not have need to share; we all bring in enough to support ourselves quite well. My boudoir has never been entered by a man."

"Truly? How unfortunate." I said, immediately regretting my insensitivity.

She smiled. "Are you condoning life as a whore? You know we do not think of ourselves that way; many would count us as such, but we prefer to think of it as something like an artform. There are people who are professionals at everything else under the sun; why are we any different?"

"Well, I've never heard it put that way. So the girls like their… profession?"

"Well, no. Most of the girls hate the work. Many of the girls hate men in general."

"I see. Well I can't imagine all of them are treated well by all men."

"No, they really aren't; so often men forget that we are still women… still ladies. They see us as nothing but a glorified animal, put on earth to relieve their passions."

"I apologize for my kind. Man is so much more primal and basic than your delicate kind. We are the animals…. "

She smiled and we walked the rest of the way in silence.

As we came upon the clearing the sun broke through the cloud and shone on everything not under tree cover.

We could see the small cottage; the hunter's lodge, perhaps a hundred yards hence, but I stopped.

She stepped from under the leaved canopy and immediately the light caught strands of red and gold in her hair. The strands glistened like fine gold and copper and momentarily held my attention like nothing ever had. I was as a child seeing my first rainbow.

She looked back at me, her white skin practically glowing in the sun. "Why have you stopped? Is this not the cabin you spoke of?"

"It is. Go on a head. I will come to the cabin at night fall. I need to hunt. We will not survive long without food. Go; I promise, I will return in a few hours."

She stepped forward several feet before turning again.

"How will you hunt with no weapons? Do you not need a pistol?" she asked meekly.

"The weapons I need I have with me. They are not your concern. Go and make yourself comfortable. I will come to the cottage when I have something for us to eat."

I turned and left. Once out of sight I sped away so that she could not follow. If she could not find me in a moment's time, then she would not venture out alone. I had hunted only hours before; but she would indeed not survive on air and water.

Besides, it would do well for me to be extra careful; each time I went out to hunt for her, I would hunt for myself as well.

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**A/N: I know I said it would be yesterday when this came out; I am having difficulties with one of my writing softwares. Ack! The rest will be out soon.**


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